A life with the Gypsies, Thieves and Outlaws
by LostSparrow
Summary: Anabella, a young, fiery woman lives in the Court of Miracles and must deal with the ever present danger of Claude Frollo.


Anabella eyes opened and the first thing she noticed was that there was an arm wrapped around her waist. She sat up quickly and turned to see who it was.

"What! Merde Paul, what are you doing!" she yelled at the man. She quickly elbowed him in the face and stood up, grabbing the blanket to cover her because she was only in a shift.

"Huh, what?" he muttered, sitting up and looking at her, he had a bad hangover. His dark hair was more tousled than usual, and his usually handsome face had several bruises running across it, most likely from a fight with another man over alcohol.

"What are you doing? I don't remember you being there when I went to bed." She grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, I was out last night, I guess I kind of came back here instead of going back to my own tent… what was I doing last night?" he asked himself, then he rolled over and looked over and found the explanation. Anabella walked over and saw several empty bottles.

"Did you really carry all of those with you to my tent and then you just decided to fall asleep beside me?" she asked him, nudging the bottles with her toe.

"Uh... yes." he muttered and then he dropped on the pillow again.

"Oh no! If you are not feeling well, you're not staying here!" she said angrily to him. She walked over to him and yanked him out of her bed and began pushing him towards the opening in the tent. She opened the flap and pushed him through, only to see him fall face first on the ground.

"God you're useless." she muttered to herself then she spotted Paul's brother, Luc, coming around the corner.

"Luc!" she called out, he turned and ran over to her

"Need something Ana-

Then he noticed Paul lying on the ground.

"Ah," he muttered then he turned and ran over and grabbed a bucket of icy water, came back and dropped the contents on Paul. Paul sat up quickly, sputtering and cursing.

"Thanks Luc." Anabella said and closed the flap and walked back to her bed and flopped down, and then realising it must be morning for Luc to be awake. She sighed and stood back up and walked over a chest that held her clothing. She pulled out a red dress and a dark brown leather corset. She had become quite skilled at putting on corset's by herself, which was no easy task. She took out a brush and began to brush her waist length dark hair, and then she put on a gold head circlet and then left to going the other gypsies in the Court of Miracles.

She walked over to her friend Esmeralda, who was eating with the gypsy king Clopin. Clopin and Esmeralda were like two peas in a pod. Clopin was a fiery man who liked to sing. Esmeralda was equally as spirited, and she liked to sing and dance. They often had fights about who was better.

"Bonjour, ma belle" Clopin said with a smug look on his face.

"Oh shut up," she muttered and sat down beside Esmeralda. She looked similar to Esmeralda, but her hair was much longer and thinner, and her eyes were just an ordinary dark brown compared to Esmeralda's bright, sea green eyes.

"We saw you had a… encounter with Paul earlier," Esmeralda said, biting her lip so she wouldn't laugh. Clopin appeared to be doing the same.

"I didn't think anyone noticed." Anabella responded, leaning back and nibbling on a piece of cheese.

"You didn't think anyone noticed! Ha, I think everyone heard you yell this morning ma Cherie!" Clopin said to her.

"He caught me by surprise, that's all! Can I have this?" she asked, pointing to an apple.

"Of course mon amour-

"Please stop calling me that!" she said and grabbed the apple and walked away from the two gypsies, who were laughing behind her. Clopin enjoyed teasing her, and he always got the best response when he would call her names such as mon amour, ma Cherie and so on. It annoyed her for some reason.

She walked over to Paul's tent and opened the flap, and saw him flopped on the mattress. She walked over to him and covered him with the blanket then she put the apple beside the bed, kissed him on the forehead and began to walk away when suddenly Paul reached out and grasped her hand.

"Anabella." he whispered

"Shh, go to sleep." she said, gently rubbing his forehead as if she was his mother. He let go of her hand and closed his eyes again. She smiled softly and stood and walked away. Paul was not her lover, though it may seem like it. They were best friends, almost closer to each other than lovers.

It was a beautiful summer's day in Paris, France. The warm breeze blew Anabella's hair around her face, but she didn't really care. She walked over to her usual street corner, which took her past the Notre Dame cathedral, as she got closer she stopped and admired the intimidating, yet stunning cathedral.

"Bonjour mademoiselle," someone said from behind her. She turned and saw Pierre Gringoire, the bard, the Prince of Paris's streets. Pierre was a sweet man, who she had taken a liking to.

"Bonjour monsieur." she said and turned back to the cathedral.

"Monsieur? No need to be so formal." he said as he stood beside her. His head was tilted back, his curly hair slipped off his shoulders as his eyes scanned the Cathedral. She smiled, but quickly looked away when he turned to her.

"Well, you called me mademoiselle, so I only thought it was fair to call you monsieur. Or would you rather Madame?" she said and turned back to him, grinning.

"Just Gringoire, Anabella." he said, returning her grin.

"Very well Gringoire. I should be off now. Will I see you later?"

"Maybe, maybe not. It all depends on my mood and if I want to see you," he said, a sly smiled spreading across his face

"Au revoir Gringoire." she said and walked away from him and continued to her street corner. Once she got there she began to sing a song

_Bohémienne  
>Nul ne sait le pays d'où je viens<br>Bohémienne  
>Je suis fille de grands chemins<br>Bohémienne, bohémienne  
>Qui peut dire où <em>_je serai demain  
>Bohémienne, bohémienne<br>c'est écrit dans les lignes de ma main…  
><em>  
>One of the tricks she did was dancing up to a child, taking their hand and tracing a little circle on it when she sang about "it being written on my hand". It usually earned her an extra coin.<p>

Some people dropped coins into the little pouch she had brought with her, and then the soldiers appeared. Soldiers had been incredibly hard on the gypsies, all because of Claude Frollo. The very name caused people to scowl and turn angry. Anabella guessed he was the most hated man in Paris. But she couldn't focus on Claude Frollo right now, because these particular soldiers have come face to face with her before, and they hated her. She quickly grabbed the pouch and ran away, and the soldiers followed. As she was running down the street, someone grabbed her and pulled her into an alleyway. She struggled to get out of the persons grasp, but then realised she knew who it was.

"Thanks Gringoire." she said, peering around the corner to see if the soldiers were following. Luckily they had been occupied by something else.

"Just trying to keep an eye on you Ana," Gringoire muttered in response.

"Why would you need to keep an eye on me?" she asked, turning back to him.

"You are rather unpredictable." He responded, smirking and he brushed a piece of hair away from her eyes.

"You call it unpredictability; I call it having a spirit!"

"Spirit, oh sure. You only get yourself in trouble every other day."

"It sure keeps my life exciting!" she whispered then got out of his grip and ran down the street, into the square where the Festival of Fools was being set up for tonight. She grinned, what fun tonight was going to be.


End file.
